Some time before Christmas, I introduced the kids to Bob Ross, via YouTube. Caleb was completely mesmerized and kept saying, "This is amazing!" Thereafter, he set up shop on an overturned cardboard box and started churning out landscape after landscape, a la Bob Ross, albeit in crayon.
And they weren't half bad, to be honest. Plenty of happy little trees.
Later, in Sunday school, the kids were supposed to decorate cards. Caleb showed his completed card to his teacher and said, "Do you know Bob Ross?" She told me that she could, indeed, recognize the influence.
So our friends knew exactly what to get our family for Christmas.
Bob Ross, meet Photoshop. Because the picture on that box, we learned, is completely fake.
Here is Bob Ross sprouting.
Aka, covered in maggots.
I set him up on our kitchen windowsill, so he was, as Jason philosophically put it, an ever-present reminder of our mortality.
Or, noting the profuse sweating he's doing, you could picture him on Fear Factor.
A couple days later, the sperm phase.
Could it be more disturbing?
Finally, the phase of promise. Except for that sprout shooting out his right nostril like a freeze-frame sneeze, it looks like we could actually achieve picture-on-the-Chia-Pet-box status.
Still, you see that smile? He's an inspiration to us all. Through maggots, sperm, mold, and terrible hair days, Bob Ross has never stopped smiling. Such unassailable gladness. Such courage in adversity.
I'm thinking I'd like to join some of my favorite bloggers who have this Friday feature--posting links from around the web for my readers' amusement, edification, and/or inspiration.
The Nester has The Cozy Minimal List; Like Mother Like Daughter has Bits & Pieces; Modern Mrs. Darcy has Links I Love. Seeing as my finds have nothing to do with professional research but everything to do with clicking down useless rabbit trails while forgetting that I opened my computer to order more laundry detergent before we run out, I give you
Links from the Bunny Trail:
- This absolutely delights me. Trevor Noah of the Daily Show covers the Ugandan Parliament brawl. Reminds you that as embarrassing as US politics are, they could always be worse, yeah?
- We recently put away all our former plates and bowls and replaced them with color-coded sets: one large plate, one small plate, and one bowl for each member of the family. Everyone is responsible for washing their own plate. We recently added this set of color-coded silverware. It's not a perfect system, but it does cut down on the dish pileup, not to mention the moldy bowls that linger in some forgotten corner of the playroom for weeks on end.
- This explanation of how to make "English jacket potatoes" seemed so adorably British, but once I tried it, I remembered that though the English are great at tea and grammar, they're not known for their crowd-pleasing cuisine. This method ruined the skins, in my opinion. I'll go back to my trusty lazy method: wash the potatoes and lay them on a pan; bake for a hour(ish) at 375(ish).
- Here's a helpful list of cooked beef temperatures for the doneness you want (including the obligatory "safe" temperature per USDA). I found this when ambitiously making beef medallions for date night a few weeks ago.
- File this under "Disappointing Pinterest Promises." It was supposed to be simple, fast, delicious, and change my life. Instead it was way too runny. I haven't forgotten it entirely, and wonder if I tweaked it somehow, could it still revolutionize my life?
- After some googling to figure out what beef medallions actually are, I settled on this recipe for the sauce, using the rum I had on hand instead of the cognac I didn't.
- I thought I'd go for this in January, when we got back from Gatlinburg, since it's not a resolution, it's a "recalibration," which is completely different from obviously doomed-to-fail New Year's resolutions, which I am way too smart to be drawn into. This plan calls for avoiding all sugar, wheat, dairy, and alcohol for two weeks. Even in my January idealism that seemed unrealistic, so I decided I would just avoid sugar for two weeks--a life revolution if ever I would have one. And after a week and a few days, I decided to round up and call it good enough. Spoiler: it hasn't "recalibrated" my palate to stop liking late-night Ben & Jerry's pints of Brownie Batter Core.
Jason and I celebrated 16 years by heading to Gatlinburg, TN. On the way we stopped for lunch at a tea shop, which turned out to be much more frou-frou than Google Maps let on.
It was delicious, though.
Was I thrilled to finally arrive in our brand-new, 2400-square-foot luxury cabin rental for a week of relaxation with my boo, get all our supplies stocked away, and heat up a very fine frozen dinner while pouring a glass of wine?
Yes. Yes I was.
We spent the Actual Night at Dolly Parton's Staaaaaaampede!
The pre-show: Mountain Ruckus, a great bluegrass band name if ever there was one.
The emcee for the evening's entertainment/competition.
We were on the South side [that's the blue team]. We had to choose sides when we bought the tickets. Jason's a southerner, born and bred, but I'm a Yankee, so I was very stressed about which side we should choose. Jason settled on South since that was the home team. We didn't want to end up on the wrong side of any civil animosity.
In between cheering our side and jeering at the Yankees, we tucked into our roast chicken dinner and watched stunts like this guy riding a pair of horses around, over, and through fire.
The riders also changed out of their team colors in between races for a little peaceable equestrian square dancing.
Another night we spent at Ole Red, a restaurant/concert venue with, inexplicably, a tractor stuck upside-down to the ceiling.
Because....Tennessee?
We had no shortage of fun in our own house, though. We spent Sunday watching football at our very own private sports bar with everything cozy.
Some days we just stayed inside and watched the snow fall.
The last day we gathered our courage, bundled up thick, and headed downtown to walk the strip. Such an endeavor required first tanking up at Crockett's Breakfast Camp.
These were the most amazing pancakes ever. I started by ordered a stack of three. The waiter said, "Have you seen them?" I said, "OK, two." I more or less got a birthday cake without the icing.
s
Sooooo good
After a while we took refuge from the cold in Ripley's Aquarium, which turned out to be far classier than anything with the Ripley's name has a right to be.
Very cool shark tunnel.
Horrible, nightmarish creatures...some sort of Japanese crabs. They were the size of golden retrievers. Without the furry appeal, though. Definitely makes you rethink ever swimming in the ocean.
Good job, Nelson! Shame on you, Peter Penguin.
After our fill of sharks and stingrays and jellyfish and penguins, we spent the afternoon tasting moonshine.
Who knew a) there were so many flavors, or b) that they could taste so good?
I love this guy.
I hand it to you, Gatlinburg. You do moonshine well. And ceiling tractors. And penguins. And bluegrass and luxury cabins and dancing horses. I tip my cowboy hat and click my new boots to you.
